Taking the bitter with the sweet

October in Paris

It’s a given that all people obsessed with food should go to Paris or spend a chunk of time there (or the rest of France, too) to acquaint the self with all matters surrounding it: the history, culture, preparation techniques that’s been well-documented for centuries, les marches en plein air. As Ernest Hemingway wrote: “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then whereever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” He probably meant a lot more than just food (sex, booze, terse but profound conversations, hunting?), but we’ll just stick to food for our purposes.

I had never been until last October (sad, right?) until the boyfriend bought us plane tix as a pastry school graduation present. I felt so lucky! I set out to have pretty much everything we had ever covered in classes, a tall order for my blood sugar level, as we only had four days.

A hearty piece of chocolate tarte, with tar-thick ganache—almost the consistency of caramel—from Chez Michel in the 6th arrondissement capped off our post-arrival meal:

We stopped by Laduree on Champs-Elysee, but it was like Grand Central in there (mostly women with fancy bags and sharp elbows, dangerous). Plus I realized the cost of one Laduree macaron was half of what I had in my bank account, so I ended up settling for the less glossy and hyped but pretty good Dalloyau ones. They were properly crispy on the outside, and chewy on the inside, with buttercream fillings. I ate most of the contents below before I remembered to take a picture—oops! Getting better at that all the time.

I think I planned the trip around stops at Poilane. I had never had a croissant so airy, so ethereal. The layers of the puff inside it just disappeared as soon as they hit the tongue. We also bought a box of punitions, the crunchy shortbread cookies sold there, to save for the journey home.

Then there was this leek and seafood quiche we bought at a bakery off Rue Lepic near Montmartre, with a satisfying, thick crust.

There was also a tarte aux pommes from La maison Kayser, but the photo is really bad so I’ll spare you. But feel free to drool at this snapshot of profiteroles in chocolate sauce from a great dinner we had at Brasserie Lipp: